The Book of Guran
Introduction Welcome traveller, to the world of Orkfia. A world that has been decorated with far stretching plains, magical forests and tall mountains. Beauty in its purest form. One might think the blue skies watch over a world of peace and tranquility. This image, however, is naught but deceit. For it are not the Orkfian gods who rule this world, but the dark dawn of madness. Every morning, the sunrise brings one more day of conflict. Traveller, be on your guard in the world of Orkfia. A world whose plains are trampled by thousand hooves, whose forests are burned in the fires of war and whose mountains are quinched with blood of the fallen. The Empyreon Age How strange it might sound, the first written documents ever written were from a race that wasn't native to the world. It tells us of the Empyreon. First how they repelled futile attacks from an unknown race calling themselves “Humans”. They seemed like nothing but barbarians in the Empyreon eyes, who dispatched the weaklings with ease. It was the beginning of a new era. The One race was gone and the Empyreons took over Orkfia, building mighty cities with tall towers, decorated houses and beautiful statues with an aura of honour looming around them. Ancient documents tell us about hanging gardens, floating skyseas and flourishing wealth. It seemed that the Empyreons were lord and master over the lands, the seas and the skies. Elves and humans were hardly mentioned, except when they were dragged in chains as slaves. They seemed to enjoy the suffering they bestowed upon “lesser” creatures. Others would despise them, while they loved themselves. Until the day they seemed to vanish from the planet. Their leaders disappeared in the shadows while their thieves and military faded away with a scream that seemed to last for ages, and ages beyond. For unknown reasons, the Empyreon age had ended. The Age of Madness Numbering in the thousands, the elves regained control over Orkfia. The world was finally free from the chains that bound it to its dark past. The future seemed bright at this new dawn. Leaders rose from the elves to give Orkfia the prosperity it deserved. Hope bloomed from the forest city of Aelias and spread out, surfing on rays of sunlight towards the human strongholds that stood as guardians on barren plains. Together with the new dawn, new questions rose. Being immortal, the almighty elves grew curious after the death that was feared by man. Approaching doom for one, a mystery for the other. A desire to know what existed beyond the veil of night. So began the experiments, led by lord Astorsun. A foul time came upon them with crimes to terrible to name. The chains of life were shattered and spread throughout all the corners of the wind. Death had lost the strugle during the “experiment”. Soul and body had been divided, a crime against nature, a cheating of death, the birth of the cursed races. Since his first succes Astorsun had changed. From a curious young leader he became a wicked, paranoid maniac. Every breath he drew felt colder. With every step he took he looked over his shoulder. As though some shadow chased him every day. Soon he and his followers learned that it was not a seed of madness: they had become mortals. Fear. That was what roared in the head of Astorsun. He had conquered death by humans but created his own. In his grieving despair he sunk to his knees, thinking. Then he rallied his followers and left to live in the darkness. No one heard from him for over a century. The high elves had accepted that all the mortal elves would be gone by now. Even the wise mage Azedor had banished Astorsun out of his memories, the elf who had once been his best student. They had banned the experiments, but could not hide the results for the world. A deepgrown hatred against the elves was seeded within the hearts of the cursed, beings beyond life or death marched against the elves. Resulting in a war with no end, a war where no-one could be killed. Immortals can't kill what is already dead. And whats already dead can't kill something that's immortal. As if the elves did not have enough trouble on their minds, somewhere in a dark forest the aged Astorsun gazed at the night sky, filled with anger and envy. A lust for bloodshed claimed control over his heart. He wanted judgement, judgement in his own twisted ways. The “high” elves had to pay for their eternal life while he waited for a slowly aproaching death. But he couldn't do it alone. His forces, more poweful than before, were still too small to take on the main elven army. So he approached the human lords in those hard times. Manipulating the truth about the cursed races, he claimed that they were created by the high elves. And that the experiments were still going on. The march that followed gave birth to the seed of madness. The great elven war took place, bringing cruel things to the world of Orkfia. It is said that the orks were created during this war, by means that were meant as retaliation, but turned out to be nothing but cruelty. The curtains of madness had fallen. Return of the Empyreon Nothing is eternal. No man, no river, no world. A painful fact, contained in the final lesson Azedor taught his former student. Taught by killing Astorsun in single combat with one single stroke of divine light. The dark elf forces crumbled without their leader, scared of their own madness they fled back into the murky shadows they came from. Sense returned to the world, but she had changed a lot. Barren wastelands lay where flowers once bloomed and the mist of death stirred where the lost souls of wars would linger until judgement day. The splitted races were now so diverse, none dared to say how many differences had grown during the previous war. Weak and shocked were the many races in the wake of war. An easy prey for those wishing to enslave them. And unknown to even Azedor, the Empyreons prepared to re-enter the world and claim it once more. Alliances were forged, bonds of friendship and rivalry brewed. It is stated that they all wanted the best, but caused the worst as they rallied the races of Orkfia under their banner. The nightmare wouldn't end, to whatever abyss it would lead, as the chains of war were too tight. The Empyreons were without mercy, their goals were stated true. But they forgot about the greater good, resulting in more tragic wars. Merely fifty years after the hope returned, destruction rained upon Orkfia once again. The Rise of Azedor Filled with grief the superior high mage Azedor watched upon the wastes scrambled all over his beloved land. It was centuries ago that he last walked over the plains, swam through the rivers and climbed upon the mountains. His youth left with the coming of fear it seemed. He took responsibilities he should not have taken. Leaving him with guilt no man should bear. He was old and contained knowledge beyond anyones comprehension. It was said he gained his knowledge from nameless things older then the world, living deep under the Orkfian surface. But however he got his power and wisdom, it is a fact that he once was a normal elvenboy and grew out to be more powerfull then anyone in living memory. Most of his days were spent in the woods, where he talked with trees and read books left behind by the One race. It was not until the moment he had no other option that he confronted his former student and killed the elf feared by many. After that he was bestowed with more respect then he wanted. And was offered a position next to the king. But he refused, because it was at that moment that he realised what the wars had cost his beloved world. The trees were not mistaken, the deeds were horrible. Instead of climbing to power he began a search for solution. In his mind power could only breed suffering. And suffering should be brought to an end. So he left his people to search for a hidden library, it was the biggest quest of his life, his succes would seal the fate of Orkfia. Azedor's pact Long had he searched the outstretched landscape. And the longer his search became, the more fell victim to the Empyreon strugle for victory. Countless lives were lost for a cause to which they were nothing but mere puppets, ready to be sacrificed. It pained Azedor, until that faithful day that his failure struck as a sharpened knife, cutting trough the very being of his soul. It didn't occur to him while searching for a way, it didn't while he was studying within the forest. But at that moment, lying down in the grass, the answer came. They came with the words of his former master: there is always a power above needless power. The Orkfian gods alone could stop the latest wars. Azedor called upon them. Muttering requests towards the clouds. Begging to give them the wisdom he needed, but it didn't come. He begged then for the power to vanguish the Empyreon race, but did not receive it. Then he stood up, his beard dancing in the wind. His crippled body stood as a silent mountain before an approaching storm. And he asked, with all his heart, with the memory of his people and his love for the land: “Mighty gods of Orkfia. I stand here, a single soul blazing in the middle of darkness. Please state to me that this overflowing darkness is not your will. Show me your will, show me a path.” After those words a path was indeed shown. A path of ruthless lightning struck down from the heavens, incinerating the flesh that bound Azedor to the world of Orkfia. Sucking his soul up to a realm where the immortals lived. The halls of origin was where he as a shapeless soul arrived. There where the feet of the gods who sat upon their mighty thrones. Words echoed from a place his soul eye could not see. “On you bestowed, one willing for the ultimate sacrifice. Time and space bent to will that is ours, yours which is the punishment for those scarring our land. An eternal wait ensues those with the power of time and space. Bestowed, bestow upon them a power that will eternally occur.” What happened precisely is unknown to all orkfiologists. It was only known that a pact was made. Turning Azedors immortal soul in something created with the power of space and time. The creation of his new existence shook the foundations of existence. Lines of time were ripped apart like simple pieces of paper. Back at the Empyreon age Azedor reappeared in the shape of a comet. An impeding doom hanging above all heads. The Comet As a second sun it shone at the horizon. Aproaching Orkfia with every second. Death and powerful magic emitted from it. Nothing could prevent it from striking. Shattering memories and empires when it struck. It released powerful time magic. All was turned back, all memory was erased and the comet reappeared at the night sky. It was an eternal occurence, one that would control the new line of history, ending every age in despair. But maybe, just maybe. There is one Empyreon who can break this time spell. A leader who uses his power for either good or evil who comes out on top and rises to great power. Category:The Books of Orkfia